Visitor Points Tally Update

I realized it is time to re-post the Visitor Points Tally, as I had a wonderful visit from the Shah sisters - Manisha Shah-Bugaj, Rupal Shah-Palanki, and Julie Alleyne (1 point each).

Although I haven't had a chance to blog about their adventures here, suffice to say they rivaled my cousins Michelle and David in shopping volume but didn't quite approach my Mom's professional attack on Yashow Market and the market at Yu Gardens in Shanghai. Like everyone who has been to visit me in Beijing so far, they were delightful guests, and both General Tsao and I missed them when they left.

Below is a link to just a few photos from their visit. Those of you who have been here will appreciate how much they were able to see in a short period - plus of course spending some quality time with me! Those of you who haven't visited yet, I hope you will take some inspiration - if these three high-power career women with families to take care of can find a way to take some time for themselves and each other (and me) to visit China, surely you can, too!

Shah visit Sep 2007

Enjoy the pics. The updated VPT is listed in the comments.

More hotel English

At our hotel in Jinan, the provincial capital of Shandong, the guest welcome note in our room was translated into - well, I couldn't really truthfully call it English, but it did use our alphabet. I couldn't get a clear picture, but the text read, in part:

If you are drunk the liquor please to send a telegram "2345" with the room service center relation. We will deliver the tea for you.

Please will not pollute the rug or the bed the thing as well as the turban class.

A sign in the shower was less stern, with this message:

Friendly proposing: Please control the temperature well.

Got all that?

Qufu - Birthplace of Confucius

We walked off the overnight train and into the town of Qufu to the explosions of confetti canons, which rained multi-colored paper scraps on the street in front of a newly opened department store. The sound - once we got over our fright at the sounds of artillery less than a block away from us - was apt accompaniment to bright red archways adorned with dragons and Chinese characters announcing the 2007 annual Confucian Culture Festival.

The wall surrounding the Confucian temple and Kong family home was draped with banners quoting famous insights from the works of Confucian scholars, while a crowd of locals and Chines tourists gathered in front of an immense TV screen to watch the ceremony being performed in front of an audience of invited dignitaries on the other side of the wall.
We started our tutorial on Confucian history at the Kong family mansion (Kong was Confucius's surname in Chinese.) Confucius himself rejected luxury and lived in a simple three room house that was later replaced by the large and ornate compound built by an emperor of the Song dynasty for his descendants.

The first generation of Confucius's descendants to live in this home was the 32nd generation - that is, the family of 32nd first-born son in the line of Confucius's first-born son's first born son's first born son, etc. Leading us around the site, our guide continued to pepper us with stories of the various generations, their families, and the interactions with emperors. I was amazed that the life and history of every generation of Confucius's descendants, on through the 77th generation son, who moved to Taiwan, is common knowledge. Our guide could give us the names of any generation of son, his wives, his brothers, his personality, and anecdotes about his life and accomplishments.

The birth of the 77th generation son was a fairly typical story about the descendants, whose lives did not seem to be consistent with Confucius's own way of life and philosophy of loving others, doing what is right, and leading by example. When Kong DeCheng, the 77th generation son, was born in 1920, his father had died several weeks before. The whole household, including not only his mother, but his father's other wives and all their children, were anxious to find out whether the child was a boy or a girl. His father had not yet sired a son; the Kong family estate, the authority of head of the Confucian family line, and the title of Sacrificial Official to Confucius hung in the balance. If the child were female, all this would have gone to the son of the father's sister, as the oldest male child in the generation. This was the last chance to save the household and keep the line.

As we now know, the child was male, and the household rejoiced. A large ceremonial door in the center of the courtyard was opened for the first time ever, and the mother walked through it with her son. (The door was opened for a second time when then-president Jiang Zemin visited the Kong family mansion, but he walked around the door, rather than through it, as a sign of respect.) One would think everyone in the family would have been grateful to her forth birthing the child that kept them in the mansion and in control of the Confucian family line, but jealousy drove another wife to murder the mother a few days later. So much for loving others.

I was pleased to find that city officials of Qufu have long protected the historical and cultural heritage of the Confucius family home, Confucian temple, and Confucian cemetery there. Unlike many important historical sites in China, these do not seem to have been destroyed by restoration, nor have they added loud music, lights, or amusement parks - despite being a famous tourist attraction, the atmosphere remains fairly serene. As you can see, preservation remains a priority. This bench reads, "The archaeological artifacts are not recyclable. Please take care of them."

The Confucian cemetery is home to the graves of Confucius and his many descendants. Anyone with the surname Kong is considered a descendant of Confucius. What if they are from some other Kong family, not at all blood related to Confucius, I asked the guide? Confucius was the first person with the last name Kong, she explained, therefore anyone with the last name Kong is his descendant. And if they are not even Chinese? Even if they are not Chinese. You see, Confucius is considered the father of surnames in China, since before Confucius there were no surnames. Thus, Confucius started the tradition of last names, and he started the Kong family line, therefore anyone with the surname Kong is part of his family. Got that?

Not every descendant of Confucius is eligible to be buried in the Confucian cemetery, however. According to our guide, there are four conditions for burial in the cemetery:
1) Must have the surname Kong. (See above.)
2) Must be male. (Females would marry someone and have children whose last name would not be Kong, therefore they are not really part of the family.)
3) Must be 17 years old or older. (For some reason, it is important to be an adult Kong to be considered a true descendant.)
4) Must have good morals/ no miscreants allowed.

Confucius's own tomb is in a place of honor in the cemetery, right near those of his son and grandson. Confucius is was given a title that can be translated as Sage, or even saint, and his grandson and many generations after were given the same title. Confucius son, however, while also venerated, was never given such a high title. I think the following story will dispel any misunderstanding that he might have been less clever than the other Kongs.

Kong son said to Confucius, "Father, in every way you are greater than me, but in one way I surpass you." Confucius asked, "In what am I inferior to you?" And the son replied, "Your son is not as great as my son."

Kong son then addressed his own son, "Son, in every way you are greater than me, but in one way I surpass you." Confucius's grandson asked, "In what way am I inferior to you?" And Kong son replied, "Your father is not as great as my father."

So, there.

We also learned at the Confucius cemetery that corruption is not a new phenomenon for Chinese public officials. There is a brook running through the cemetery called the Zhu Shui River, and there is a large stone sign identifying the bridge over the brook as Zhu Shui Bridge. When the sign was erected, the name of the bridge was carved in characters in the middle of the sign, with the date and a quote from the official who commissioned the sign along the side.

Many dynasties later, an emperor sent a large sum of money to Qufu to have a new sign built for the bridge. The new sign, of course, would recognize the emperor instead of the earlier office. Of course, the money went to other uses.

When the emperor announced he would come to Qufu to pray and honor Confucius, the local officials knew he would cross the bridge and see the old sign, rather than the one he had paid for. Scrambling for a solution on a shoestring, the officials removed the stone panel, turned it around, and carved a new sign, with the new date and emperor's name, into the back side of the panel. They put the sign back up with the newly carved side facing front. The emperor never knew the difference, and the sign with two carved sides remains over the bridge today.

For more pictures of our trip to Qufu and nearby Taishan, follow the link below:

Qufu & Taishan

You get what you ask for?

I was recently stranded in a Chinese airport while my flight was delayed for several hours. Because it is not possible to check in for a Chinese domestic flight more than an hour in advance, I was stuck, with my luggage, outside security, where there were no shops with Olympic paraphrenalia, no comfortable lounge (OK, there's no comfortable lounge in any Chinese domestic terminal, but a lounge anyway).

My only options were the Chinese airport restaurant - huge, with no customers, surly staff, plastic-wrapped dishes (more on that in another post), and food that manages to be at once bland and incredibly salty - or the Chinese airport bar - Chinese wine, Chinese beer, maotai, a couple of cocktails you've never heard of, and pickled anything snacks. I went with the bar.

The waitress appeared by my side as soon as I sat down, not saying a word but indicating with her bored countenance that I should order immediately. When I asked if I could have a minute with the menu, she said yes and kept standing there.

What to order? My new departure time had not been posted, but the airline representative reported our aircraft would not arrive for at least 3 hours. I didn't feel like beer, and I definitely did not want to take my chances with Chinese wine - after all, what I really needed was to relax. Every cocktail on the small list included either blue curacao or rice wine, not a good sign.

As I was about to resign myself to a bottle of water and some boiled peanuts, I spied "Bailey's coffee" on the list. I didn't feel like caffeine, but if they have Bailey's with coffee, they must have Bailey's right? But Bailey's as it's own drink was not on the list. Not on the list = will not compute with waitress.

I chose my words carefully. "You have Bailey's coffee, right?" Bailey's coffee, yes, she replied, turning around and walking away. "Wait! Wait!" She came back and stood over me silently. "So, can you bring a glass with Bailey's in it, like from the Bailey's coffee, but don't put any coffee?" She stared. "You get my meaning? Baileys, but I don't want any coffee?" Wait, she told me, and turned around and walked away again.

Wait, instead of the anticipated, No, sounded promising. Even better, she reappeared and said. Yes, we can do it. "Great, then, I'd like that - Baileys, no coffee. Oh - and I'll need some ice with that, OK?" She didn't reply, but slid off and I waited happily. And in fact, I did receive Bailey's, no coffee, with ice. Like many things in China, it was not exactly what I expected...
... but it did the trick.

The Beijing Terry Fox Run - Don't Run - Run

About half an hour after I got back from the gym Saturday morning, my friend Jenson called and told me the 7K Beijing 2007 Terry Fox Run would begin across the street in Chaoyang Park in an hour - did I want to run? I was a little concerned that the combined effects of jet lag and and additional 4+ miles on top of the previous hour of exercise might really wipe me out, but I decided to join.

I'm glad I did not miss it. Of course, I wanted to see my friends after a couple of weeks out of town, and I support the Terry Fox Foundation's cause - raising money for cancer research in the name of Terry Fox, an amputee with bone cancer who attempted to run across Canada in the early 80s to raise awareness and money for the National Cancer Institute of Canada. On top of that, the event had some memorable aspects, including the biggest foreign celebrity in China and an militant announcer who told the runners not to run.

Arriving around 9:30, Jenson, Mark, Ti-Ying and I were happy to see we had not yet missed the 9 am warm-ups. Warm-ups, when they did begin, consisted of two small, wiry Chinese guys in tank tops rolling their heads and shoulders and making what someone described as kissing motions toward the sky. As we looked around at the many people gathered for the event - alarmingly few actually dressed in running clothes, or even sneakers - we commented that 7K was an unusual distance for a run.

We also couldn't help scratching our heads a bit about the the dancers, who were dressed in traditional Chinese costumes but performing an odd, sort of neo-modern, jerky rowing motion back and forth across the stage. As they gave way to dancers dressed in nurse costumes singing, 'Thank you," then Beijing city officials, then the Canadian Ambassador, we knew we must be approaching starting time.

Of course, no Canadian-sponsored event in China would be complete without Da Shan, and we were not disappointed. Da Shan, for the unititiated, is simultaneously a symbol of friendship, hope, and unmitigated hatred for foreigners studying in China. Da Shan, whose Chinese name means "Big Mountain," is a Canadian named Mark Roswell who began studying Chinese in Beijing in the late 80s, when there weren't many foreigners running around. At some point, he ended up on a TV show - not an uncommon even for Chinese speaking foreigners, who were considered highly amusing novelties well into the 90s - and became noted for his particularly good Mandarin.

As he continued to study Chinese and began learning traditional Chinese performance arts, Da Shan continued to get invited for appearances and shows, until all of China knew of Da Shan, the foreigner who speaks Chinese better than many natives, knows classical Chinese, reads poetry, and builds bridges between Canada and China. He's been in Chinese TV programs and movies and has his own Chinese learning TV show and web site, and he's plugged products from Chinese translators to Ford automobiles in China.

All this sounds delightful, unless you are unfortunate enough to be another foreigner studying Chinese here. Friendly Chinese making conversation always ask, "Do you know Da Shan?" (No, he's Canadian and much older than me.) "I mean, have you heard of Da Shan?" (Yes, about a million times...) "Your Chinese is good, but not as good as Da Shan." (Yes, I've heard that too.) "You can't really understand Chinese culture until you've learned classical Chinese like Da Shan. Da Shan can do xiangsheng [a traditional Chinese type of comedy routine involving very fast-spoken, quippy conversation among 2 or 3 performers with lots of puns and literary references], you probably don't know what xiangsheng is." (But I do! Sigh.)

Can you blame us other foreigners for making violent gestures whenever we hear his name? The following quote in the China Daily after Da Shan was appointed Canada's Olympic Attache to China didn't help his case with Americans, either:

When Chinese people see the red and white and 'there's a guy from Team Canada,' the image is, 'Oh, Dashan's on that team and they're our friends.' As opposed to the Americans.

As Da Shan introduced the run - given the prized role of speaking last on stage, even after the Canadian ambassador! - Mark noted that he would really like to catch up with Da Shan and give him a piece of his mind about that quote.

Finally, it was time for the race, which we knew because an announcer suddenly yelled in Chinese, "The Terry Fox 2007 Beijing Marathon of Hope begins now!" and not one, but two starters shot off guns. Excited but slightly confused runners looked right and left in front of the stage, not exactly sure which direction was the race course. They were saved by another announcer who quickly grabbed the microphone and yelled, "Don't run! Wait a minute! Don't run!"

Apparently, an enthusiastic rush of runners pouring across the starting line was not the chaotic image the organizers wanted associated with the Beijing Terry Fox run. The announcer then began listing groups of sponsors - universities, cancer-fighting organizations, companies, who may proceed across the starting line to the right, with their supporters behind the appropriate banner or flag.

We did not have a banner or flag, but we finally felt it would be OK for us to start on the loop through Chaoyang Park. We passed a variety of events occurring simultaneously with ours, including two weddings doing pictures and a couple of groups of Xinjiang-style dancer groups in multi-colored skirts and head-dresses. Unfortunately, it was a thick, dark gray day with light rain and palpable pollution in the air, probably not the best day for either an outdoor run or wedding pictures.

The course was a very simple loop, and we had been running for perhaps 20 minutes when Da Shan appeared by our side, chatting with a Chinese runner. A moment later, we found ourselves crossing the finish line. While one might expect celebrations and festivities at the end of a charity run, the plaza was surprisingly empty. We found almost no one there other than Mark, who had finished a few minutes in front of us. Mark confirmed with his GPS wristwatch that the run, advertised as 7K, had been only about 3.5 K, or 2.2 miles, and equally round number for a road race, I suppose.

With no fanfare, music, or even water at the finish line, there was nothing to do but head off for a nice brunch at Chef Too, which we did once Mark had taken the opportunity to talk to Da Shan. I don't want to steal Mark's thunder, so I will hold off on reporting that conversation to give him the opportunity to blog it on www.facethesun.org.

Back - but what does it all mean?

I'm back to blogging, after a frightfully long hiatus. There's lots to tell, but let's start with a language lesson. A colleague and I joined two Chinese teachers and a local guide on a trip to Qufu, which is the birthplace of Confucius, and Taishan, which is one of China's five most famous mountains. In addition to our Chinese immersion, however, we also tested our English with these translated signs. Let's see how you do...

1) In a (slightly smelly) public restroom. English text: Sweet memories go with you and clean environment leaves behind.

Chinese text - proper translation: Leave a beautiful environment, leave a beautiful memory.
What did they really mean? Please be neat!

2) In our hotel guest guide. English text: Respect guest hello, the guesthouse enters you in the room has electric heatingcanteen, Please directly receives in the basin tap the running water,after boils Then drinks uses.
Chinese text - proper translation: Greetings Respected Guest. There is an electric hot water pot in your room. Please boil the tap water before drinking.
What did they really mean? It takes 5000 years of civilization to learn how to use a tea kettle.

3) On the light switch above the night table in our hotel. English text: Bedside shoots the lamp.
Chinese text - proper translation: Bed head shoots the lamp.
What did they really mean? Since you are an American, we have booked you into our "Wild West" room. Please enjoy the violence. Tee hee.

4) Hotel night table. English text: For your safety, please keep chsh and valuable goods in head stage.
Chinese text - proper translation: For your safety, please leave cash and valuables at the front desk for safe keeping.

5) In hotel bathroom. English text: Please use slippery.
Chinese text - proper translation: Please take anti-slip precautions.
What did they really mean? This is the most dangerous bathroom ever. Because this is an old state run hotel in a provincial capital, it is not well kept and the bathroom floor is never dry.